


The Art of Seduction Via Ice Cream: What Not To Do

by ambivalentlangst



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, Mutual Pining, bonding over ice cream, heavy references to other characters, losers in love, shance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-08
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2019-05-19 15:09:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14876105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ambivalentlangst/pseuds/ambivalentlangst
Summary: Lance has never seen a finer piece of ass than Shiro. Shiro does not understand how one man, Lance, can be so beautiful. Their paths converge in the ice cream aisle of the local grocery store.





	The Art of Seduction Via Ice Cream: What Not To Do

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eccentrick](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eccentrick/gifts).



> In loving appreciation of my angel of a friend [@lo-tor](https://tmblr.co/m9XKwwvERp6SO0OsYNmo0WQ) I bring you all several thousand words of hopeless pining losers in love, aka shance, who struggle with things like kisses, ice cream, and figuring out that their feelings are requited. Thank you to my fellow [@lo-tor](https://tmblr.co/m9XKwwvERp6SO0OsYNmo0WQ) stan [@starryyskiies](https://tmblr.co/mp9AOvoMAuqkB7l5JSIV0cg) for betaing!
> 
> * * *

Shiro stalked down the aisle of the local grocery store, glasses on and hoodie pulled over his head. He wasn’t sure at what point during the night he’d decided ice cream was necessary, but when he finally arrived in front of the Ben and Jerry’s section he started getting irate. Shiro was a simple man, who liked simple things, and really didn’t consider a pint of the best damn ice cream in the world too much to ask but he’d been staring at the glass case for five minutes and had yet to spot any Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough.

Lance was tired of spending Friday nights alone, and he blamed Keith entirely. If he had never introduced him to Shiro, six feet of perfectly sculpted muscles and also Keith’s roommate, Lance might be able to bring someone home without wishing they had grey eyes that crinkled when they smiled or a white forelock that flopped across their faces adorably when they tipped their head too far one way. Nyma had stopped inviting him out with her and Rolo, he’d been out of commission for so long, but how was he expected to see Shiro and get out alive? Lance was halfway through the first of the Princess Diaries when he had decided that Mia wasn’t the only one allowed to treat herself. A pint of Half Baked sounded heavenly, and maybe when his stomach was full he would be less inclined to scroll through Shiro’s Instagram.

Their eyes met from down the aisle as Lance passed by, and they both felt a slow, creeping heat encroaching upon them.

Lance’s cheeks flamed, watching Shiro stare at him out of glasses halfway down the bridge of his scarred nose, though he didn’t seem to notice. Shiro lifted a hand in a little wave, and Lance felt his feet–the traitorous things, them–bringing him closer via a jog that was just a little too erratic to be casual. Shiro was far too distracted by the sight of his long legs and the lean muscle packed onto them to really take much notice. Lance waved in response and wondered if Shiro could hear the way his heart was slamming against his ribs, a metronome on its fastest setting. Shiro tried to remember when his sweatshirt, gleaned from his father’s closet his senior year and very stained despite it being Shiro’s favorite, had last been washed.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Lance remarked and felt unreasonably proud to hear that his voice didn’t crack, not even a little. He reached forward into the cooler, and his fingers locked around the carton. Lance hardly felt the cold with his pulse pounding in his ears. Shiro nodded, forcing his eyes away from Lance in shorts and a loose fitting tank top that exposed more luminous, sun-kissed skin every time he shifted. They landed where Lance had delved into, furrowing in concentration.

“Likewise. Do you see any cookie dough? I’ve been searching, but I can’t find any.” Lance giggled, and Shiro felt lightning crackle across his skin when his fingertip pushed on his cheek and then moved off it and towards the object of Shiro’s attention. Shiro was more than a little embarrassed to see the digit land right in front of his face, showing him exactly what he’d been looking for.

“Oh.”

“If it’d been a snake, you’d have been bitten,” Lance chirped, in a manner that sounded rather like he was reiterating a phrase that had been repeated around him for a long time. Shiro would muse to himself later about who was lucky enough to have Lance around long enough for something like that to stick, all his smiles and laughter and his beauty. Lance ran a hand through his hair, and forced himself to stop thinking about how nice Shiro looked in casual clothes, and how he might look even better sitting on a couch watching movies with him, an arm around his back while Lance nestled into his chest because he would be warm and-

“So, why are you at the grocery store at ten o’clock on a Friday night? Keith says you like to club, what’s keeping you home?” Keith had also mentioned something about him going out with Lotor, a man Shiro knew vaguely from the office and the fact made Shiro’s skin crawl, even knowing he really had no right. Lotor wasn’t a bad guy and Lance probably only saw Shiro as a friend anyway. As much as Shiro wanted to change that, he realized it was probably a fruitless effort. Lance would want somebody as polished and coiffed as himself, tonight being an exception. 

Normally, even if only to class, Lance’s appearance was immaculate from the tips of his straightened hair (rumor had it that it was naturally curly, but Shiro did not let himself think about that for long because if he did he feared he’d faint on the spot), to the fabric of his shoes, kept meticulously dirt free and waterproofed just to be safe. Lance hummed lightly, but his lips pressed together and he scowled.

“I can’t have a good time out right now,” he groused and spared a fleeting glance at Shiro. Briefly, Lance contemplated if telling his relationship woes to the source of them was a good idea. Shiro was there, after all, and he was as gorgeous as always even if did have a little bit of dried drool on his cheek. Lance speculated that he’d been napping, and would later daydream about how his eyes might’ve shut to give his face a sort of vulnerability that was never expressed in the waking world. At least, that was what Lance could speculate from when Keith declared Shiro the hard-ass at his work. Lance had suggested that he was a hard-ass in other areas as well, but Keith threw his shoe at him and Lance had enough fear in him of footwear as weaponry to shut his mouth. Shiro frowned.

Why was Lance unhappy? Or at the very least, why couldn’t he enjoy himself? Ever since Keith had first brought Shiro to dinner with the rest of his friend group–three days and four months ago, Shiro had marked it on his shitty little desktop calendars that the office gave to him and everyone else for Christmas–he’d been drawn to Lance because a radiated a sort of contentment and kindness that he didn’t see too often in his world of clicking keyboards and filing cabinets. Before he could stop himself he was offering, like the absolute buffoon he was,

“If clubs aren’t really working for you right now, want to head back to my place and watch a movie or something? Keith’s gone for the weekend to go on some wilderness exploration hike with his mom, so he won’t mind.” Shiro knew for a fact that Keith and Lance, though friends, could bicker until kingdom come and Shiro would prefer to have Lance talking about other things, much more pleasant things, like how Shiro could make sure he wasn’t upset and never got that way ever again. Lance balked at the suggestion, but as much as he adored Julie Andrews, she did not have the abs Shiro had once been dared to show off during a night of bad decisions and way too much tequila. Very suddenly, the Princess Diaries could wait. He grinned, sidling right up to Shiro with a smile Shiro swore could light up a black hole.

“That sounds great.” Lance’s ice cream brushed Shiro’s arm, and he startled at the cold, but Lance was already turning away and towards the registers. Unbeknownst to Shiro, Lance tore himself up thinking about how he’d made an absolute mess of a perfect opportunity.

He’d gotten _way too close_ to Shiro when he wasn’t invited to do so–Shiro probably thought he was a creep and was only offering to have him over out of pity. He had agreed too fast, he had laughed at him when he couldn’t find the ice cream he wanted (though it was right in front of his face and Lance still kind of giggled at the memory), and now he had agreed to stay with him. Undoubtedly, during that stay, Shiro was going to figure out that he had a massive crush on him, because that was just Lance’s luck. Lance had made a very bad decision, but there was no backing out of things now.

Lance took Shiro to the register, making dumb jokes about the wildly inaccurate tabloids that had Shiro barely controlling his laughter in order to maintain some level of subtlety. Lance cursed himself every time he spoke, thinking of how awful his jokes were, but the more nervous he got the more the jokes kept coming. He barely made it back to Shiro’s without melting into a little puddle on the ground, easily stepped over and ignored.

They both opened their cartons of ice cream to find that a good chunk of it had been melted away. However, Lance had a fairly simple solution for that. He set his lid aside and thanked himself for putting on a ratty shirt for once to go to the store in, and raised the pint to his lips.

“Bottoms up!” he announced and promptly chugged what sugary goodness had been stolen from him while he chattered away with Shiro. Shiro’s stormy gaze softened when Lance yelped because the remainder of the ice cream had fallen onto his face. Shiro tried very, very hard not to blush when he got to grab a washcloth and clean him up. 

Lance held still while he did that, and while Shiro appreciated the practicality of it if he had to look at the way Lance’s lashes brushed his cheeks or his lips parted slightly without distraction for one more second, he was going to go insane. Shiro fumbled for a topic of conversation they could return to, scrubbing at some particularly stubborn goop in his hair.

“So, why can’t haven’t you been able to enjoy clubbing recently?” he asked, and thought of Lotor bitterly again. Lance sighed crossly, Shiro’s touch on his skin persistent but not at all rough. He threw caution to the winds. He had, inarguably, the most beautiful man in the entire world looming over him like some sort of anti-ice cream angel because he’d been stupid enough to chug straight from a carton of Ben and Jerry’s. If there was ever an opportunity this was it.

“I can’t find anyone to dance with, because there’s this one guy I haven’t been able to get off my mind.” Shiro sucked in a breath. He was a terrible person. Had Lotor broken up with Lance, and he not realized it? Dear god, he was wanting to date someone fresh out an old relationship, and obviously not over it.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you and Lotor weren’t an item anymore.” 

Lance’s eyes flew open, brows knitting together aggressively. Had Lance not been so utterly confused, he probably would’ve been in shambles over how close Shiro was, and how precious he looked with the concern scrawled all over his face.

“Who’s not a _what now_?” Shiro paused, one dark brow rising above the other in a motion only barely registered by himself.

“You and Lotor? Keith says you guys go out all the time.” Lance blinked a few times, and then shook his head, snickering as he dropped his head to his chest. Shiro didn’t bother telling him that he was getting ice cream on his shirt, dripping from his chin. He didn’t think he cared.

“Oh my god, _no_. Lotor and I bicker _way_ too much for that, and besides, he’s dating Allura. I just third wheel them a lot, mostly because I usually find someone else to have a good time with.” Lance winked, and Shiro was sure the tips of his ears went red.

“Oh,” he squeaked, yes, _squeaked_ and it was just as humiliating as it sounded. Lance giggled, patting his cheek.

“That’s sweet of you though!” Lance consoled him, patting his back while Shiro resisted the urge, using a monumental amount of effort to do so, to plant his face in his palms and bury it there forever. “Not to worry, Lotor’s off the market. Besides, I have a different guy in mind.” Shiro’s place across the table wass what had left him unscathed from Lance’s whole ice cream fiasco, but it appeared Lance wasn’t satisfied with the distance between them. Lance leaned forward to cross the empty space separating them, bringing himself close enough for Shiro to be able to smell the faint sweetness of his shampoo and have a front row seat to the few tufts of baby hairs coming to curl along the cut of Lance’s cheekbones.

“He’s kind, handsome, and laughs at all the dumb jokes I make–even the really bad ones,” Lance’s eyes were soft, adoring, and Shiro wished desperately that he was the one to make him look that way instead. Lance hoped Shiro would catch on. He was still being vague, but god if it wasn’t a certain form of heaven watching Shiro’s attention come to rest solely on him. 

“That’s great, Lance,” he told him, as sweet as ever despite how Lance was practically falling into his lap. “Whoever he is, I’m sure he feels the same. You’re a-” his voice hitched, Lance’s head tipping carefully to the side as he listened. The rest of the sentence was punched out of Shiro in one torrential rush. “You’re a great guy, and he’s lucky to have your affections.” Lance merely hummed lightly in agreement, his thumb running across the rough stubble just barely present on Shiro’s cheek.

“He’s strong, too, even though he works in an office. I don’t even know when he has the time to work out, but it shows.” Lance desperately hoped he was being forward in the right way, because Shiro was flushed and kept looking at the table, his fingers tapping on the wooden surface in frantic tandem with the beating of his own heart, not that Lance could feel that. Shiro, on the other hand, could swear it was the loudest thing in the room, pulsing in his ears. Lance was still talking, two fingers on Shiro’s cupid’s bow, the other hand resting lightly on his arm.

“Even though he seems stern he’s really not, and would do anything for his friends. He’s really the best, reminds me of you.” Lance was so, so close, and Shiro was swept up in his hot breath flitting across his skin and the blue of his eyes, close enough for Shiro to see every bit of color. “Maybe that’s why I like you so much,” Lance murmured and tipped Shiro’s chin up with his knuckle in a way that really shouldn’t have sent butterflies dancing in the pit of Shiro’s stomach.

“Lance?” Shiro asked, or more accurately, croaked. Lance hoped he was being suave. Was he? It wasn’t his first rodeo, exactly, with this sort of thing, but Shiro was, well, Shiro, and who wasn’t to say he hadn’t dated people who made Lance look like the victim of some horrible and disfiguring tragedy? The idea made Lance’s stomach twist uncomfortably, and he shook the thought off. He was going to romance Shiro, dammit, he could do this. As gently as he could Lance pressed his lips against Shiro’s, remembering all the books he’d read about this sort of thing, and hoped he was giving the kind of supple, warm kiss that made every protagonist melt.

His hold on Shiro was by no means a strong one, and Shiro could’ve very easily pulled away had he so desired, except for the fact that Shiro was lost in the way Lance’s lips slotted against his own and his tasted like strawberries, however artificial. Every second passing was pure ecstasy, until Lance moved back.

Shiro had kissed before, plenty of times, actually, but it never made him feel like that. It never made him nauseous and scared and happy and grateful all at once, all rolled up in a hapless, utterly inappropriate, “Thanks.”

Lance blinked a few times, and Shiro hated himself for every second he stared at him expectantly, like it was a normal answer and _Lance_ was the one being weird.

“You’re welcome?” Lance’s looked utterly confused and more than a little put out by his response, and Shiro did his best to cover it up. For all the orders he barked and secretaries he had blushingly hand him boxes of chocolates on Valentine’s Day, Shiro was rendered entirely ineloquent by Lance’s blue eyes staring him down and the memory of his _lips_ and couldn’t think of a single thing to say to give Lance some solace for such a curt reaction.

“I should go,” Lance decided suddenly and stood up with burning cheeks. Shiro could see them flare in the light of his kitchen, and frowned as he reached out to him.

“Why are you going?” Shiro asked, and hoped he didn’t sound too desperate. Lance shared another furtive glance with the ground, his hands balled into fists. It was so embarrassing! He should’ve known better than to kiss him, and Shiro was so sweet, he didn’t think anything of it. He was just so perfect, too perfect to let him down cleanly.

“I overstepped, and I know that. I wouldn’t want to stay and make you any more uncomfortable,” he told him lowly, just a few quick, humiliating steps before he could run back to his apartment to sob because he couldn’t have messed things up worse. Shiro’s hand on his shoulder felt like lightning, and every part of Lance stiffened at the touch.

“You didn’t overstep!” Shiro reassured him quickly, and when Lance turned to chastise him for trying to comfort him, he was surprised to see Shiro bashfully rubbing the back of his neck. “I liked it. It was a good kiss,” he finished lamely, and Shiro cursed himself.

“ _It was a good kiss.”_

Yes, perfect. Exactly what Lance wanted to hear after he’d given him the most clinical response possible to a step forward that would’ve left Shiro a nervous mess, had it been him taking it. However, Lance stared at Shiro, his blue eyes starting to lose the dullness that had overcome him at what he took as a polite rejection.

“It was?” Lance squeaked. Shiro personally thought the sound was ill-suited to himself, but the way Lance pitched his voice and his fingers tapped worriedly on his thighs made him grin.

“It was.” Shiro could be suave too, right? He stepped forward, moving from a simple hand on his shoulder to one looping familiarly around his waist. “In fact,” Lance thought he might combust because Shiro’s breath smelled like his ice cream. He was close enough to smell Shiro’s ice cream breath, _holy shit._ “I’d like another.”

Lance was not about to deny that request, and Shiro was happy to be obliged.  



End file.
